


you're a fine piece of real estate (and i'm gonna get me some land)

by misura



Category: Hustle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 17:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Danny goes all in. (Well, half. Half in.) Mickey calls.





	you're a fine piece of real estate (and i'm gonna get me some land)

"Excuse me?" Mickey said, which was a mistake: clearly, the only possible response to Danny's proposal ought to have been a swift and firm denial of any and all interest, followed by a merciless listing of Danny's real and imaginary flaws, of which there were many.

Sadly, an inability to flash his smile and get people to lower their guards for just a few moments could not, in all honesty, be included in said list.

"Well, it's simple maths, innit?" Danny said. He'd bought Mickey a drink - honestly bought and paid for, which seemed to have left Eddie as puzzled as any scheme Mickey had ever pulled on him.

That should have been his first warning, clearly.

"It's simple maths that I desperately want to sleep with you," Mickey said. Its manner of acquisition did not seem to have affected the taste of his brandy - although that was all psychological, anyway.

The fact that Danny had bought it for him, apparently with the express purpose of trying to pull him ought to have had at least some effect, he felt.

"Please," he went on, Danny clearly waiting for his cue, "enlighten me."

If Albert or, God forbid, Stacie was behind this, he would see them dead.

Their funerals might make for a nice social event, an opportunity to get in touch with some old friends, and if the deceased were to turn up alive and well after the fact - well, such was the life of a grifter.

Truth was either what you made it, or some happy illusion spun for the witless and the honest.

"Way I see it, you're human, yeah?" Danny gestured with his glass. "You've got needs, same as the rest of us. So who're you gonna pick, huh?"

_Once upon a time, I picked Rachel._ A mistake, and not one he cared to repeat.

"A mark?" Danny asked. "I don't think so."

Mickey decided not to mention the part where he had, in fact, slept with a mark - although with the benefit of hindsight, it might be more accurate to say that he'd been slept with _as_ a mark.

"Now, Stacie - good-looking bird, yeah?"

"Better than good," Mickey said, because fair was fair, and he did have eyes.

In fact, if he'd expected Danny to make a serious play for any member of his crew, he'd have picked Stacie. She'd either turn him down flat or throw him a pity shag, teasing him endlessly after the fact in order to drive home the lesson, which was that crews were family, and thus off-limits for anything that went further than a bit of flirting with no serious intent behind it.

"Yeah." Danny looked lost in thought - or more likely sexual fantasy, for a moment. "But alas, girl's got a crush on you that's a mile wide, so what you gonna do, huh?"

Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Now, Albert - fit for his age, yeah? Probably knows his way around the block? Bit old, but what's age except a number? Major mentor figure in your life, though, so not the type to shag, is he? Icky."

"Albert is icky?"

"Not what I said, and don't you go twisting my words and tell him any different. I've got enough problems as it is, thank you."

Mickey considered derailing the conversation into a discussion of what these problems of Danny might be. It might make for a good diversion, ending the evening on a more or less positive note, confirming once again that Mickey was the superior grifter, the man in full control of his own life, whereas Danny was merely a gifted newcomer who still had a lot to learn (and an unreasonable reluctance to admit it).

"Just - like picturing what your parents got up to, before you were born. Only worse."

"Thank you for that mental image, Danny."

"Warned you, didn't I? Anyway, that leaves Ash. Clever, yeah, bit plain, but solid enough. Plenty of blokes with looks like that around, only he's got something up here, too, doesn't he?" Danny tapped his forehead. "Something extra."

Mickey waited for the continuation.

Danny sipped his brandy. It wasn't his usual drink of choice, but ensuring you had something in common with your mark was basic strategy, so Mickey supposed he was in no position to criticize that particular part of the set-up.

It meant that if the proceedings got to kissing - which they wouldn't, he'd taste his favorite drink. It would help to draw him in closer, to preserve the momentum of the moment.

His brains would associate Danny with his favorite drink, giving the go-ahead where they should have hit the brakes. Hard.

Of course, as mentioned before, this was all theoretical.

Mickey sighed. "But?"

Danny shrugged. "No chemistry."

"And you think you and I - we've got chemistry?" Mickey said.

"Well, we do, don't we? I mean, don't go telling me you don't feel it, 'cos I know that's bullshit. It's there, Mick. I feel it, you feel it. Only question is, what kind of chemistry is it?"

"Ah. There's different kinds now." Mickey shook his head and chuckled. He was tempted to slip into the rest of the role - the inside man who's cynical and distrustful, determined to disbelieve this windfall fate has thrown into his lap, until he is reluctantly convinced by the mark to give it a go, see what happens, what've you got to lose, anyway?

_Everything. The best crew I ever ran._ Time to get serious, to stop playing around.

Time to call it a night and go to bed alone. He had hands, and an imagination. He'd spent enough time observing Danny to have some idea of what it would be like, to have Danny under him, or on top of him, or on his knees, complaining about the carpet not being soft enough.

"Danny," he said. "This is not a good idea."

"Damn right it's not," Danny said. "It's a great idea. Both of us getting what we want. All of that unresolved sexual tension - whoosh. Gone. Just like that."

"Whoosh," Mickey repeated, his tone carefully flat. "And then what?"

"Then, I figure we do it again, a couple of times, just for fun." Danny shrugged. "After that, reckon it's back to business as usual. It could be a - you know, a friends with benefits sort of thing. No strings."

"You think we're friends." Not a good direction: turning down Danny too harshly might damage the crew as much as taking him up on the offer would, and in the former case, Mickey wouldn't be even getting anything out of it. He'd be trading in something for nothing, and that was just bad conmanship.

Danny's overall expression was annoyance. He was aiming for the same role Mickey'd almost slipped into before: the person who's about to run out of patience, who didn't want to be here in the first place.

The man who doesn't care one way or another.

"And you're right." Mickey swallowed. It would have been easier to steer the conversation with a third party there. "We're friends, Danny. Friends. Let's not make things complicated, all right?"

"What if I said that, actually, Mick, that's not all right with me?" Danny said. "What if - and this is just hypothetical, mind, what if I told you that I really, desperately wanted you to shag me? I mean, wouldn't you, as a true friend, be willing to oblige me? I mean, it's just a shag. No biggie."

"Hypothetically." Thank God, Danny was not the begging type.

In fact, he was barely the 'come right out and ask' type. Not that Mickey would have had any trouble refusing a straightforward offer, instead of sitting through this whole spiel of 'why you should want to sleep with me, by Danny Blue, mental age stuck on teenager'.

"Hypothetically," Danny agreed.

"I suppose I might," Mickey said, watching the emotions play over Danny's face. Triumph, followed by realization, chased by the awareness that Mickey was watching. "So?"

"Well," Danny said. "I'm just saying, what I guess I'm saying is, same here, all right?"

"Thank you, Danny."

"Yeah, well, I'm a good friend, aren't I?" Danny still had some things to learn about covering up his emotions, hiding his tells from people who'd known him for longer than a couple of days.

"You are," Mickey said.

"Will you just - " Danny looked frustrated. Mickey managed not to smile, mostly because he was not, in fact, heartless. His trouble with Rachel had only started _after_ they'd gotten together, but even so, he was familiar with the sensation of being given the run-around, of trying to bare your soul and have an honest, open conversation only be shut out. "A hint? Anything?"

Probably, it would be safe to lie. Danny might be hurt for a few days, a couple of weeks, but he was young, flexible. He'd get over it. He wasn't the type of person who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer - not when it was about this, and when it had come from a friend. Not when he believed it was true.

Mickey sighed. "I'm sure the experience would be a memorable one for both of us."

"All right, fine, I can take a hint," Danny said, hands raised in surrender, already half-turned away before he snapped back. "Wait."

"Very well. I'm waiting." _I'm making a mistake. I'm going to regret this. Not tomorrow, maybe not even next week, or a month from now, but some day._

Danny shook his head. "Memorable? Try 'mind-blowingly amazing'. I mean, for you, anyway."

_Ah well. The die has been cast. Let the chips fall where they may. And more of that nonsense._

"It's just sex, Danny."

Danny grinned. "That's the spirit. So. Your place or mine?"

"Last time I checked, they were the same. If what you meant to ask was 'your _bed_ or mine', the answer is 'mine'."

"Um. So would that be mine 'mine' or your 'mine'?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mickey asked, grabbing his coat. "I thought it was obvious."


End file.
